Pregnant For My Bully

Jason Davenport

I was upset. Scratch that. I was beyond upset. I was furious. Murderous. If I got my hands on Amelia, only two things could happen: I beat the shit out of her, or I punish her so bad she wished I beat her up instead.

She thought she’d won this one, didn’t she? In her mind, we were even, right?

I scoffed. Till tomorrow. The bitch better not show up at school tomorrow, because by the time I’m done with her, she’ll be begging to write my apology letter herself. Which she will, by the way. I wasn’t going to pick any goddamn pen and say I was writing an apology letter for her. That apology letter was going to be written by she herself.

Who did she think was, punching me that way? Humiliating me in front of Coach Hens. And to think Coach took her side. And Adrian actually shoved me, for her.

“By the time I’m done with you, Amelia,” I said through clenched teeth, my hand gripping the elastic ball in it harder. So hard the veins in my arm bulged. “By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll wish you’d kept your fat mouth shut.”

Unable to hold in the pent up anger anymore, I channeled it to the ball, throwing it toward the window opposite me. It hit the window frame and bounced right back at me. Catching it, I threw the the ball again. It bounced against the window this time, but deflected on returning to me, hitting me square in the nose instead before falling onto the bed beside me.

Now enraged, as the action only reminded me of the punch Amelia had given me this afternoon, I grabbed the ball, picked up the pen lying on the nightstand beside my bed and stabbed the bloody thing until it deflated, then I tossed it aside, along with the pen.

Exasperated, I fell back onto the bed with a sigh, throwing a hand over my head.

“Why does Adrian always take her side, anyway?” I muttered, staring at the ceiling. “He’s never on my side. Not that I expect him to be on this one, but every other time he always has something to say when it comes to her. And we’re supposed to be buddies.”

Exhaling, I ran a hand across my face, muttering, “What if he has something for her? It could be the reason.”

Then on a second thought, I changed my mind. “Nah. It’s not even possible. Amelia’s not his type. In no way.”

But the idea that he could actually be interested in Amelia kept nagging me. If that turned out to be the case . . . it better not be.

I diverted my thought to the way Coach Hens had reacted earlier, on the field. That too was odd. I mean, I expected him to be mad, but not to that extent. Now that I thought about it, it felt like he took it too personal. Kicking me out of the field for the whole week? Asking me to write an apology letter to Amelia and then read it out to the whole school on Friday? That was too much.

Maybe he’d had a similar experience before?

Speaking of reading an apology to Amelia before the school, how the hell was I going to do that? How was I going to read an “apology” letter when in reality I felt no way apologetic, and which I wasn’t going to write myself, by the way.

Knowing I was going through all these because of Amelia, and Kimberly who gave me the dumb idea to pull off, my anger began to seep back in.

I cracked my knuckles in a bid to direct the anger somewhere else. There was no point stressing over someone I’d already plotted my revenge on. All I had to do now was wait till tomorrow. Till I was able to see her at school. Then she’ll really get hers.

Sighing, I sat up from the bed and, reaching out, picked up my phone from my dresser, where I’d left it earlier. I wanted to text Adrian. Ask him if he’d hang, because, to be exact, I was bored. I’d come home earlier since Coach Hens had told me off and since then I hadn’t done anything else but loathe and loathe some more.

Going onto Instagram, I went straight to his DM and sent him a “hey, you wanna hang? Play basketball or something?”

Seconds later, he replied. Is that seriously all you have to say right now?

Frowning, I typed. What dyou mean?

Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. What the fuck was that back there at school?

I sighed. The issue has passed, Adrian. Why are you still dragging it?

Just because Coach reacted to it doesn’t mean it’s passed. Wtf is going on with you? And Amelia. I mean, how could you do something like that? Honestly, I still can’t believe you would do that.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

I rolled my eyes. Not like you’re a saint, man, so chill.

I would never do that, he sent some seconds later.

Why tthe heck are you even so interested in that girl. Do you like her or something? I typed with a scowl.

It’s not just about her. It’s about how you act in general. To some people, like her. Which is very unfair.

The question is, do you like Amelia or not?

How’s that important rn?

Do you? Just answer the goddamn question already.

A second later, his reply came in. And what if I did? Then what?

My eyebrows shot up at his statement. So you do?

I don’t. She’s not even my type, but that’s not the freaking point, Jace. What the hell is going on with you that you now vent your annoyance one everyone. They’re people too, you know? With their own problems.

I don’t vent my anger on anyone. Just Amelia, because her case is different.

Whatchu mean?

You won’t understand, so forget it.

And we’re supposed to be friends ??

Not knowing what to say, I sent a “. . .” Alongside a shrugging emoji.

Look, man, Adrian sent, a couple of seconds later. I don’t know what it is you’re going thru but you gotta fix it up, before things get out of hand.

I got you, I replied.

Yeah, right.

I gotta go now, he sent.

Ok, cool.

Seconds later, I was left alone in the confines of my room, still bored out of my mind. I had virtually nothing to do. All my homework had already been done by Amelia beforehand, not that I was going to do it myself anyway, and I’d played videogames so much already that as of now they seemed mundane to me. Besides, I had no one to play with. It wasn’t like Ashley downstairs knew how to. And even if she could, I still wouldn’t play with her.

Groaning, I tossed my phone aside on the bed and raked a hand through my hair, racking my brain on something to do. Go out to a friend’s? Play basketball at Rory’s?

Nah. I wasn’t in the mood to hang out with any of those guys, especially after what happened in the field. And also knowing they were in on this too. It’s just luck that their sorry asses and the part they played, Kimberly most of all, weren’t in the video too, and I wasn’t one to snitch, so, even if I was asked who made the video, I’d say nothing.

Speaking of Kimberly, I wondered what she was doing now. Maybe she could come keep me company. After all, it was her fault.

She was the one who’d come up with the darned idea while we were playing truth or dare at the party. We were already well into the game when she suggested I bring Amelia in the game, make sure she gets drunk and then video what happens next with her.

And now I was in this mess because of her. Kimberly, I mean. So, she had every reason to share the boredom with me. Ease it up in whatever way she could.

I called her. On the second ring, she picked up. I told her what I needed. Told her to drop by so we’d have sex. I just couldn’t wait. Ten minutes later, she was walking in through the door of my room-she’d never turned down a request to meet up with me, and she always arrived on time-dressed in a tight, sleeveless crop top that stopped just above her navel, a short skirt and sneakers.

“Was that your stepmom I saw on my way here, in the living room?” She asked as soon as she walked in, shutting the door behind her.

“Yay tall, blonde hair, skinny legs?” I asked, dropping my phone on the nightstand and scooting over on the bed so Kimberly had room to sit.

“She is not skinny.” Kimberly rolled her eyes. “She looks like a fucking model.”

“Whatever.” I waved it off. “Enough about her. Did you do what I asked you to?”

Taking off her shoes, she raised her feet onto the bed, her green eyes trained on me.

“Well?” She smiled, cheeks dimpling. “What does it look like?”

My eyes trailed down her face, stopping at the tips of her breast. I could make out her nipples, pointy and round, pushing against the fabric of her top.

Looking back up at her, I gave a smirk. Just a tiny one. Nothing to show I was satisfied. Yet.

“And your panties?” I asked. “What color is it?”

“Nude,” she replied, her cat-like eyes never leaving mine.

Only then did my smile widen. “Good. What next?”

Straightening up, she propped herself on her knees, before pushing me back onto the bed and climbing on top of me.

“I’m sure you have a condom,” she said, slowly, but sensually, rocking her hips against my crotch.

“No, it’s finished, but my pull-out game is best,” I said, my hands reaching up to hold her waist.

She rolled her eyes. A habit of hers. “You’re just lucky I’m on birth control, so you can hit it raw.”

The smile that spread across my lips at her words reached my eyes this time. “You always seem to know what makes me happy.”

Tightening my grip on her small waist, I held her and flipped her over so I was on top now and she was under.

Without any further waste of time, I grabbed my shirt, yanked it off and tossed it aside, just as she did hers, her perky breasts bouncing as soon she took off her top.

Cupping the right one with one hand, I leaned in and kissed her, hard and long, just the way I liked it, the fingers of my hand all the while fondling her breast, tweaking its tight nipple, squeezing.

Her hands tugged at the fly of my jeans first before they grappled its way to the zipper.

I broke the kiss, stopping her hand from pulling my zip down.

“Not the regular.” I told her.

“Handjob then?” She breathed, sitting up.

With a nod from me, she pushed me so I fell back onto the bed, then she held the zipper of my jeans and unzipped the fly. Out sprung my cock, already fully aroused.

Wrapping a hand around it, the motion sending tingles up my belly, she began moving slowly. Up and down. Up and down. Stroking. She stroked rhythmically from the tip to the base and back to the tip. She varied her speed nicely, and then, by the next minute she was moving faster. Quicker.

In my belly was a built up tension, growing and growing as the minutes passed by until I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

My eyes shut, breathing ragged, I rasped out, “I’m about to.”

The moment I spoke, she went faster, her hand moving up and down in swift motions until, unable to hold it in any longer, I climaxed. On a pillow she, out of nowhere, placed over me.

“You think I was gonna let you come on my hair?” She smiled devilishly as she moved away from me. “I have other places to be, you know.”

Ignoring her remark, I held her by the arm and pulled her closer, turning her around so she knelt before me.

“Your turn,” I growled, pulling her in.

Spreading her legs wider, I teased first, sliding the edge of my cock over her clit.

“You know how much-” stopping suddenly, she gasped the moment I slid it in fully.

That pretty much hushed her, enabling me to concentrate on the thrusting. My motions as I pounded in and out. Her ass slapped against the base of my belly, titties bounced to and fro. She moaned. Gripped the sheets of the rocking bed.

Reaching for her boobs, I squeezed, pounding harder, her moans getting louder, breathing faster, head thrown back and eyes rolled back into their sockets until finally, I held her waists tighter and gave one last, deep thrust. With it came the ejaculation, right at the moment the door to my room swung open.